Pay No Attention
by binkley2013
Summary: Set after Probable Cause (Season 5, Episode 5), Beckett is worried about Castle's behavior in the weeks that follow, and thinks she is seeing the symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Then Tyson's body is found. Will that resolve Castle's odd behavior? Spoilers through Probable Cause; AU.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer and Introduction: The characters aren't mine, and I claim no rights or interest in them. For those parts of what follows that are original to me, they're mine.

This story is AU, and set right after _Probable Cause_.

I thought I was a "one and done" type of fanfic author, but I've been toying with doing a "re-write" of parts of _Probable Cause_ to try to fix all the story problems (one of which was discussed by Castle in my other story, "His Own Special Way", id: 9488967). While considering that, a post-_Probable Cause_, multi-chapter story idea came to me. I'm not currently willing to commit the time or energy to writing that story, but then I thought of a way to get to its ending in a way that hinted at the longer path, as well as maybe other side-paths that came to mind from _Probable Cause_ and its issues.

And when it became clear that the story presented a golden opportunity to use Perlmutter, what follows became the right way for now. The story might even work better in the short form, as the hint of the longer path may be more intriguing than the actual story I'd be able to write. Maybe I'll try eventually but no matter if or when, I hope you enjoy the shortcut now.

Again, thanks to my beta readers for their time and feedback. Their names have been withheld to protect the innocent. All errors are mine.

* * *

"You going to say something Perlmutter?" Castle asked, turning to face the medical examiner as the he and the rest of the team were starting to leave the New York City Medical Examiner autopsy lab.

Perlmutter had paused, ambivalent. It wasn't a state he was accustomed to, and not one he liked much. No one who dealt regularly with Perlmutter would have ever described him as indecisive; quite the opposite. He made quick, well-informed judgments about everything – people, evidence, situations – and rarely found that he need to re-consider those judgments. It wasn't a question of style, it was just who he was. And it was partly why he made such a good ME, but definitely a prickly one if he thought someone was questioning how long he was taking to make a decision or, heaven forbid, questioning his conclusions.

When Perlmutter failed to respond promptly with a sarcastic barb aimed at Castle, everyone's attention began to turn to him.

* * *

It took longer and was farther away than they had expected, but Tyson's body had finally been found.

Castle and Beckett were at the Twelfth, she at her desk doing paperwork, he sitting in his brown chair at the side of her desk, his hands busy wadding up a report form he'd grabbed and then smoothing it out, only to start the cycle again. Beckett was randomly stealing glances at Castle, trying to keep the lingering concern out of her expression. A little over three weeks had passed since the shootout on the bridge, and it had been less than a week that their routine had gotten back to some semblance of their "normal." Castle had been through a lot, and Beckett knew _that _was a gross understatement. As Kate snuck glances, she couldn't help but be a bit in awe that after everything Castle had been through, he beat Tyson with truly minimal help from the team.

But those glances didn't eliminate Beckett's fears that it was all too much for Castle to handle. Having suffered Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder herself, Kate had earlier begun to think that Castle was having a similar problem.

The thought had first flitted across Kate's mind the morning after Tyson was shot off of the bridge by  
Castle. After she and Castle had been interviewed about what had happened after leaving the warehouse where they had found the evidence exonerating Castle, she had been kept busy with crime scene duties and helping to coordinate the search for Tyson's body. Each time Beckett had a moment to check on Castle, she found him standing at the edge of the bridge, staring at the river with a blank expression. He had stayed like that for hours. And when she'd approached Castle and he said he didn't believe Tyson was dead, that Tyson had orchestrated the entire ordeal from start to finish so that he had a very public "death," she'd gone so far as to call that theory "crazy." Kate thought that Castle was physically and emotionally exhausted, and that sleep and a few days to decompress would put that thought to rest.

It wasn't long before Beckett wished that she'd never uttered the word "crazy" because it had begun to look like Castle could be suffering from PSTD. He hadn't been the constant presence at the Twelfth in the days that followed, and when he answered her calls, he seemed to be looking for excuses to avoid coming back to the precinct. On the days when Castle did show up, he was more unfocused than usual and seemed more distant, certainly more on edge and fidgety. From her reading about PTSD after her own episode, Beckett could see that Castle was exhibiting classic symptoms.

* * *

**_One week earlier_**

Hoping that she could quiet her increasing concerns, Beckett had gone to Lanie.

"Hey," Beckett said as she strode through the door. She expected to find Lanie there, but Perlmutter was also in the exam room.

"Hey girlfriend. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Lanie responded, getting up from the stool where she'd been sitting to walk toward Beckett.

Perlmutter, seemingly engrossed in his work, didn't even look up.

"Do you have a few minutes? In private?" Kate said, glancing Perlmutter's way.

Lanie started to ask Perlmutter if he would take a break, but Perlmutter interjected before she could speak. "You didn't have to add the final thought. I knew you were here for a personal conversation since there's been no news on Tyson's body." He began to put down the instruments he was working with.

"Thanks Perlmutter, appreciate it. I shouldn't be long."

"Oh, by the way Detective, do know that I've volunteered to do the autopsy when we recover Tyson's body. That's one identification I look forward to making. Of course, that partly depends upon the validity of Castle's assumption that a few of the 7 or 8 shots he fired actually managed to hit Tyson." Thinking back to Castle's zombie obsession, Perlmutter continued, "But it wouldn't be the first time that an assumption of Castle's has made an ass out of him, and also tried to make one out of me."

"Sidney . . ." Lanie's tone matched her glower.

"I'll be back in 10."

Lanie spoke after Perlmutter was a safe distance down the hall. "That man. If he wasn't damn near indispensable, I'd think about smackin' him too. So what's up?"

"It's Castle."

"Yeah, how's he doing after everything? And then can we talk about why we always seem to have these conversations here in the morgue?"

"Please Lanie, I'm worried. He's barely been to the precinct in the past two weeks. Half the time he doesn't answer his phone and when he does, he doesn't sound like himself. Definitely edgy but at the same time distracted and tired, like he's not sleeping well."

"Have you gone over to the loft to check on him?"

"It's not like he never comes in. He's just not his usual constant presence. And when he's there he tries to hide it all and act normal, but I can still see it. Espo and Ryan know he's not the same too." Kate paused before continuing. "Besides, I can't go to the loft unless I'm sure that things are really wrong. He asked for some space after what he'd been through, and I owe him to respect his request."

Not for the first time Kate thought karma was a bitch . . . on wheels.

Lanie narrowed her eyes while titling her head downward and to the right by a fraction. "So you're thinking Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?" Lanie was sure that, Kate being Kate, she had read up on the Disorder when she was diagnosed after her own shooting, and Lanie wasn't surprised that Beckett would be sensitive to the possibility with Castle. And while Lanie had never told Kate, Lanie had also done research and spoken to some psychiatrists about PTSD when Kate was being treated, so she could be as supportive and helpful as possible in Kate's recovery.

Lanie thought it would be a near miracle if Kate wasn't seeing some PTSD symptoms in Castle. In the span of a few days, he had lived through a situation where he had been confined, his life had been in constant and increasing danger, and few believed in him even after he told them Tyson was behind it all. As if that weren't enough, after days of Castle being a murder suspect because of a cunning and meticulous plan by a serial killer, a psychopath who once before almost killed a tied-up Castle with Ryan's gun, Rick had been faced with having one chance to save Kate. If Castle had failed, he would have had to watch Kate die because of his failure. And that single chance had to be taken when he was still in a bit of a daze after having been in a car that had been rammed by a truck driven by Tyson. Castle had found himself with Kate's gun, facing Tyson who was holding Kate as a human shield with a gun to her ribs, screaming he wanted Castle watch the murder of the woman he loved. In that diminished state, with adrenalin pumping through his veins and unsteadying his hands, Castle was faced with having to use an unfamiliar gun to shoot Tyson while avoiding hitting Kate, and do it at night on a dark, shadowy bridge.

Lanie wasn't sure she could imagine a more purely psychologically stressful sequence of events.

Kate continued. "Yeah, that's what's got me worried. He stays away from the department and when he's there, it's like his anxiety increases and he can't keep himself still – like constantly drumming his fingers, or spreading them out on my desk, raising and lowering his fingers one-by-one. . . You try doing your paperwork with someone doing that on your desk for a week. If he doesn't get back to being Castle soon, I'll be the crazy one."

Lanie ignored Kate's awkward attempt at humor, knowing it was her way of trying to deal with a deep concern for Rick's mental state. "OK, saying you two have communication issues isn't exactly news, but have you talked to him, asked him how he's doing?"

Beckett spoke while she nodded her head. "I've tried a few times, but you know how he is – says everything is fine, deflects the question, changes the subject. The only thing that came out of my attempts was that Castle revealed that he was going to apply for a concealed carry permit from the city, and asked for my help to get him ready to qualify."

Lanie's eyebrows shot up. "What, saving your life by shooting a serial killer who was using you as a human shield isn't qualification enough? Or saving your life by shooting the gun out of the hand of a different serial killer? He still has to prove he's a good enough shot?"

"Lanie, can you be serious please? I'm really worried."

Lanie threw her hands, fingers spread and palms toward Kate. "OK, OK."

"Anyway, since shooting can sometimes help me work out frustrations, I thought it might help him too. I thought maybe it would make him start to feel safer, more in control, so we went. . . That's another thing – he didn't want to go to the police range, actually said he'd be more comfortable somewhere else. But even at the private range, he couldn't relax. He started off nearly as wildly as the first time we were at a range." Beckett thought about watching his ineptitude in the well-lit controlled environment of the range, and being even more amazed that Castle hadn't shot her on the bridge. "I think by the end I convinced him to put his concealed carry plans on hold."

"Have you spoken with Martha and Alexis?"

"They're not too concerned yet. Said this is pretty ordinary when he's gone through an emotional event before. This feels different to me though. They say they'll keep a closer watch but with Alexis at college, and Martha out of town teaching at an actor's workshop, I don't know . . ."

"Well, I'm an ME, not a psychiatrist, but after all he's been through I don't see how PTSD can be ruled out. I think – and you already think or else you wouldn't be here looking for a second opinion – that you should urge him to go see Dr. Burke. He helped you. I'm sure he could help Castle, if he needs it."

"I don't know if Castle will listen to me on this but he respects you, and your opinion might be the push I need to convince him to at least meet with Dr. Burke."

"Hey, if you think it would help, I'm happy to talk to Castle."

"Thanks Lanie, I knew I could count on you."

"I'm here for you Kate . . . Castle too."

Kate left the morgue feeling lighter than she had in days. She was even happier the next day, as it looked like a visit to Dr. Burke might not be needed. The day after her visit to the morgue, Castle had returned to the Twelfth, more like his old self. He was still restless, however, fidgeting and back to touching and picking up things.

* * *

**_Back to Present_**

Kate's random glances at Castle were interrupted by her phone ringing.

"Beckett." The neutral, distracted expression on her face quickly transformed into a wide-eyed, smiling vision. "Thanks Lanie. We're on our way."

Hanging up, Beckett turned to grab her jacket and beamed at Rick. "C'mon Castle, Lanie says she's got Jerry Tyson's body. Ryan, you should be there for this. Esposito, you too."


	2. Chapter 2

_Kate's random glances at Castle were interrupted by her phone ringing. _

_"Beckett." The neutral, distracted expression on her face quickly transformed into a wide-eyed, smiling vision. "Thanks Lanie. We're on our way."_

_Hanging up, Beckett turned to grab her jacket and beamed at Rick. "C'mon Castle, Lanie says she's got Jerry Tyson's body. Ryan, you should be there for this. Esposito, you too."_

* * *

The team divided into their normal pairings for the trip to the morgue. The car ride gave Beckett a chance to observe Castle in a different but familiar setting, without an audience or group interaction. After leaving the garage and settling into the street, Beckett looked Castle's way, trying to mask that he was the focus of her attention.

What she saw didn't please her. If anything, Castle seemed more stressed. He wasn't sitting in his normal position. Instead of sitting next to the passenger door, right elbow resting by the window, the left hand free and available for gesturing, Castle appeared uncomfortable and closed off - sitting noticeably away from the door he usually hugged - with hands in his jacket pockets. If he was trying to still his hands by leaving them in his pockets, it wasn't working.

"Lanie wouldn't have called if she wasn't sure."

"Yeah," Castle responded after a beat.

Beckett reached over and lightly grasped Castle's left arm, hoping to provide some reassurance and maybe help calm Castle's fidgeting.

The grimness set in Castle's face relaxed a bit, but there was obvious effort in the hint of a smile that briefly crossed his face. "I'll be fine, I just need to get this over with."

Beckett was somewhat relieved when Castle put his hands in his lap for the rest of the trip and he relaxed a bit, even if his fingers refused to stay still.

* * *

Beckett hit the swinging door to the ME autopsy lab hard, with Castle trailing, followed by Esposito and Ryan, and almost ran into a curtain that divided the autopsy lab in half.

"Lanie, where's the body? And where are you?" Kate barked in the voice she used when immediate action was the only acceptable response.

Lanie's voice came from the other side of the curtain. "Hey, hey, calm down, it's not going anywhere." Lanie pulled back on one end of the curtain and slid it aside to admit the team, and then slid it back. "Welcome to our world after camera phones. We had one too many photos sold to the _Ledger_, so now we're taking additional precautions on 'newsworthy' cases. Like this one."

On their side of the curtain there was a single examination table which held a Caucasian male body, partially decomposed (and from the look of _things_, partially eaten). The team joined at one side of the table, with Lanie stopping on the other side.

Perlmutter was also there, rolling away a tray that held a bowl and some obviously just-used examination instruments.

Castle's head tracked from the corpse to follow the tray, and he looked like he was about to throw up.

With the PTSD discussion with Beckett fresh on Lanie's mind, she had been watching Castle since she had slid the curtain back into position. She wasn't exactly surprised to see him, but she had wondered if Beckett was going to find a way to keep him away from the initial viewing and briefing in light of her PTSD concern. With Castle watching Perlmutter and the tray, Lanie took the opportunity to make a quick assessment of him. Starting with their first meeting crouched at opposite sides of a dead body pulled from a swimming pool, Lanie had quickly gotten used to Castle's ease around corpses and gore. Now, not only did Castle look ill, he started to move away from the body, as if recoiling, with his hands in his jacket pockets. Beckett was also watching Castle, and he was back to the same diminished physical appearance she saw on the ride over. Lanie looked at Beckett, with an unspoken question. Beckett shook her head slightly, while watching to make sure that Castle didn't see her.

Also having glanced at Castle, Esposito shook his head too, but conveying the opposite emotion and spoke up. "That him? I guess it kinda of looks like him, but he's not all there . . ."

Lanie fixed a look at Esposito. "Would I have called you down here if I weren't sure?" Turning her attention toward the group, she continued. "Actually, he doesn't look as bad as we were expecting. A body in water decays differently than a body on land, might take longer, might be shorter, depending on the water conditions and marine life. Hard to tell much from the state of his soft tissues. But this body, the height matches Tyson's, the weight's in range, and you have to admit that sorta looks his face.

"Of course, we're not relying on facial recognition. We've been hoping that Tyson's body would be found so when this one was pulled from the water, we started looking to match it. The first clues were the gunshot wounds to his chest. There were 6 entrance wounds consistent with a large caliber handgun. Police report says Castle shot 7 or 8 times, so that matches."

Castle, who had continued moving around the room - although never any closer to the corpse – nervously tried some humor. "Maybe the first time I missed, and Tyson began to think it was his lucky night."

Perlmutter spoke. "Not so lucky. Even after being in the water for days, I'd say he was dead before he hit the water. Won't know for sure until I finish the autopsy, but initial examination of his lungs didn't indicate any bleeding consistent with drowning. I'll be checking to see if the diatoms agree."

Lanie continued without reacting. "Exam revealed that there were only 5 exit wounds so Perlmutter was able to pull out the remaining slug." Lanie tossed her head in the direction of the tray that Perlmutter had been wheeling away when the team entered, where a hunk of metal lay. "I'd say that single slug looks like a 9mm round. Which, of course, matches the caliber of your Glock that Castle used to shoot Tyson on that bridge. Also, the slug is pretty clearly the remnant of a jacketed hollow point, so that would match too." As Lanie finished her explanation, she glanced over at Castle, who had stopped moving and was leaning over the tray where the slug lay, peering at it.

Beckett had been periodically watching Castle throughout Lanie's explanation and also saw him stop. Beckett was hoping Lanie would net this out, so that Castle would believe that Tyson was dead and that they could get him away from the body and out of the morgue. "Lanie, can you help me here, and tell me why you're already so sure?"

"Turns out our serial killer here had a dental problem while hiding in prison. Which meant -"

"Dental records, which means x-rays!"

"Exactly. We had copies sent to us earlier, and they definitely match the body in front of us."

Castle abruptly spoke, in a hopeful tone. "Does that mean you're done, and this case is finally closed?"

Beckett furrowed her brow, and sounded simultaneously hopeful but unsatisfied. "Tyson was a master of creating false identities and fake paper trails. Couldn't he have found another patsy, somehow swapped the records out, and killed a manufactured substitute?"

Ryan, who had been silent since they'd entered, spoke up. "Yeah, we've seen him play the long game more than once." Ryan still smarted over having his stolen gun given as a "gift" to a mobster, who had then tried to leverage information about Tyson into a plea deal on a murder charge. Castle suspected that Tyson had hoped that the mobster would eventually have a need for such a trade, and that Tyson had only given the mobster false information in the hope that the police would make the trade and embarrass the NYPD again. If the trade had been made, more attention would have been given to what he considered the worst black mark by far on his career.

Perlmutter first looked at Castle, "No," and then swiveled his head toward Beckett and Ryan, "and highly doubtful. But we won't be taking any chances. We'll be checking everything we have on Tyson from the time he entered prison until he was released, and everything we find here, to prove the body you see here is both the Tyson who was in prison and the man who was shot on the bridge. We'll be pulling pictures and details of slugs from your Glock that we have on file, and check them for a match against the slug I just pulled."

Castle began to circle the table again, which caused Perlmutter to sigh and add exasperation to his expression, but he continued. "Also, when the dental work was done, we think Tyson's DNA was collected and placed in the fed's CODIS. That would allow us to match the body's DNA to the prison DNA. We'll also be using everything we have or can think of to corroborate the conclusion that the body before you was Jerry Tyson."

In full lecture mode, Perlmutter kept going. "For instance, the prison documented a tattoo that Tyson had in prison." Grabbing a file from a table, Perlmutter opened it up to color photos of a tattoo on the side of man's ribcage, taken from various angles. "This body doesn't have that tattoo but if you'll look here" – Perlmutter grasped the left arm of the body and lifted, as the team leaned in for a better look – "you'll see scar tissue that's a little bigger than the tattoo. Scar type is left by the most current tattoo removal lasers, and it's not permanent, so we know the removal was fairly recent. Finding out who did the removal may help lead to more information about Tyson, where he lived, other aliases, insurance, whatever it is you detectives do with that kind of information.

"Call it our Tinkers-to-Evers-to-Chance special, Detective. Prison records match body, evidence from your first encounter with Tyson matches body, slugs and other evidence from bridge matches body, and you and defective Castle" – Castle barely acknowledged Perlmutter's go-to insult, as he slowed to take another look at the slug – "complete the chain with your identification of the man on the bridge as being Tyson. Forget reasonable doubt. When we're done, we'll know if there is _any_ doubt about whether this is Tyson."

With a smile on her face, Lanie concluded the presentation. "And when Perlmutter says it's Tyson, you'll know it's Tyson, and everyone will know he's dead. It's the least we can do to finally put this whole thing to rest."

Lanie glanced over where Castle had stopped, and did a double take. "Castle, put that down!"

Everyone turned to look at Castle, who looked like he was in a daze, holding and staring at the slug that had been removed from the body. He turned toward Lanie, and sheepishly uttered an apology. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking" as he placed the slug in the bowl.

"Honestly, didn't they just talk to you about touching things without gloves on? You want to pick up, you put on the gloves." Lanie had walked over to Castle, to hand him a pair of blue gloves. "Here."

Perlmutter continued to look at Castle, his eyes first blinking rapidly and then slowing into a stare, as Beckett moved toward Castle to take his arm, which he'd already pulled back into his body, hands in his jacket pockets again. "So Castle, you were wrong back on the bridge, about Tyson still being alive. I told you he was dead."

"I guess I did get him after all," said Castle, staring at the remains of Jerry Tyson. His eyes flicking in Beckett's direction, Castle finished with a voice devoid of emotion. "Son of a bitch got what he deserved, and he's done threatening anyone again."

After a violent shoulder shake and a huge breath, one that sounded like it could have been the first one he'd taken since the bridge, Castle's voice sounded almost normal "You know, I could sure use a drink or two . . . maybe three. Old Haunt, everyone? Lanie, Perlmutter, you too. Owner's buying."

Perlmutter's brow was knitted, and he inhaled sharply like he was starting to say something but then he stopped.

"You going to say something Perlmutter?" Castle asked, turning to face the medical examiner as the Castle and the rest of the team were starting to leave the ME's autopsy lab.

* * *

As Perlmutter paused to consider whether he would say something, Perlmutter looked at Castle, unconsciously tilting his head slightly sideways as if seeing Castle for the first time and experiencing a bit of cognitive dissidence, jumbled with parts of his own life flashing before his eyes.

As a boy, Sidney Perlmutter had gone through a love/hate relationship with both professional wrestling and magicians. He loved both at first, but later came to dislike them. And to his everlasting chagrin, he had figured out the professional wrestling was 'fake' (he preferred the word 'staged') before he accepted the fact that that magicians weren't doing real magic and that they were instead skilled at performing carefully-planned optical illusions that depended upon the audience's natural observation tendencies and the use of misdirection. It didn't matter to him that the audiences for both were willingly "in on the gag."

As Perlmutter grew up, his distaste for professional wrestling had turned into indifference. However, for whatever reason, his disdain for magicians had stuck with him. Although it couldn't fairly be called an obsession, Perlmutter had trained himself to overcome his observation tendencies, to ignore misdirection, and to really see what he was looking at. He sometimes thought that it was a natural progression to the ME job, with its focus on uncovering what's really there, even if not easy to see, no matter how nature sought to confuse or man sought to hide.

And now, it wasn't that he felt ambivalent about what he'd seen. While in school he'd spoiled too many Friday night pick-up attempts that used a little magic trick in an attempt to charm a co-ed, and he'd disrupted enough 3-card monte street hustles between his subway stop and med school, to have forgotten what good sleight of hand looks like.

Perlmutter just never expected to see it in the morgue, much less performed by the man he was looking at, and so he wasn't sure what his response should be.

Perlmutter pulled his attention away from Castle, and stared at the body of 3XK lying on the table, thinking about the lives they knew Tyson had taken plus the ones he was sure they didn't know about, and the vast number more that had been ruined because of Tyson.

A beat before the silence became awkward, Perlmutter finally responded to Castle's question. "Only that, Detective Beckett, it turns out Castle's not an ass after all." Looking up at the assembled team, Perlmutter finished. "I'm sure we'll be closing the file on 3XK once and for all, and everyone will be able to rest easy."

Seeing the confused looks on Ryan's and Esposito's faces, Beckett said, "I'll explain that reference later, guys."

"I'm pretty sure I know what he meant," said Castle.

Lanie moved to take off her lab coat and scrub up, before she grabbed her jacket and purse. "You joining us Sidney?"

Perlmutter spoke, as he turned toward the corpse on the table. "No thanks, not my kind of place. Dr. Parish, you've been at this since the body came in 10 hours ago. Why don't you go and then head on home for some sleep? I'll take care of this now."

With that settled, Castle and the rest of the team disappeared behind the curtain that Lanie drew back into place as she rushed to join them, leaving Perlmutter alone with the corpse and the collected evidence. Before the morgue door swayed to a stop, Perlmutter could hear Castle as they walked down the hall toward the elevators. "Beckett, what was the name of the therapist you saw last year? Do you know if he's registered with the state? I think I may need to talk with him."


End file.
